Fall of Nobility Addendums
by Wends
Summary: [AD&D AU] The histories that created the boys of 'Fall of Nobility' are finally revealed... [addendum story to 'Fall of Nobility'. HD, TH, WM. rated for violence, lemony content, gore, overall mature content]
1. Welcome the Dawn

Disclaimer: I in no way own Gundam W or AD&D. Don't sue; I'm simply an E5 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

A/N: I started these preludes a considerable amount of time after I'd completed my work on 'Fall of Nobility.' After I'd completed that story, while I was satisfied with the end product, I felt that my character development was noticeably lacking. After all, how is one to know how Quatre was before he went insane under the ministrations of Vincent VonWinner? Or why Heero is so distant, living strictly by his sword? Why is Trowa working as a street thief, and how did he end up knowing everyone else, considering that at the original story's commencement he is a working resident of Waterdeep while his friends are just passing through on a quest for money? How is it that Duo, a beginner in the art of Magic and a weakling compared to everyone else, is traveling in their fold, tromping alongside almost legendary warriors? And why is Wufei, an honorable Waterhavian Guard, sullying himself with these fools and throwing his fabulous job and great wages into the proverbial toilet? The past behind the characters was never explained. Hence the addendums, which I've finally started to write.

These are rather long and perhaps a little tedious. They're also character-centric until the last few chapters, which explain how the rag-tag party came into being. So no, there will be no additional TQ material, as Quatre didn't encounter the party properly until 'Fall of Nobility' itself.

However, I felt the effort was well worth it, as the molds I cast the Gundam Wing pilots into are finally explained and perhaps are more palatable. I hope you enjoy reading these side stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.

A/N 2: Just as in 'Fall of Nobility,' /magical spell/ and :psionic power:

_-BEGIN FIC-_

The sun's soft golden light gently bathed the serene green landscape, yellow rays scampering playfully along the sharp dark projections that were the needles of the dense pine forest that flourished at the base of the mighty mountain range over which the day's star poked its lofty shining head. The darkened sky glowed with the coming of day's promising light, twilight fading into navy, navy fading into royal, royal finally seeping in the light of the sun to pale to pastel sky blue, the clouds that raced across its windless expanses puffed and fluffed much like cocky, bright birds touched with oranges and soft yellows upon pure white stretches and swirling, soft folds. The sharp, hard mountains that surrounded the landscape thus forming it into the protected valley it was shined nearly purple with the early morning's light, strong curves and crests and dips and boulders bearing stark contrast to the weak and fleeting dark shadows that played with the few remnants of black coloration that sprawled upon the stolid rock, seeking desperately for darkness in which to continue their existence.

As the soft pine forest soaked in the light of the slowly rising sun, those that lived in the hideaways and folds of its dense construct stirred with the promise of early morning life. A tentative chirp leaked from a lofty branch owned by a tree that fought a futile battle with its neighbors to crest above its competitors for the life-breath of sunlight. Soon, another bright squeak broke the silent atmosphere. A responsive chirp met it, then with a wild song meant to claim territory for the day did the answering voice burst into life.

The forest careened into song as its green masses of needles had risen to the first touch of light that flowed from the sun that shined upon Elysium of the Outer Planes, forcing the waking of those creatures that found their daily routines ruled by the command of the sun even as it hinted to those creatures whose world was the realm of shadows and evening broken only by the white light of the moon and the flickering of the stars in the black curtain of the sky above that their time of rule over their lands was over and done. Deep in the woods, the campfires of the travelers who dared to venture into the wilds of the Outer Planes, traveling far from the relative safety of their Prime Material worlds, began to die and fade as those who camped beside them buried them or smothered them to keep their dangerous flames from lighting the massive collage of plant life that filled the swooping valley.

Sunlight sparkled upon the floating, glowing white feathers that danced upon a suddenly breathed spurt of a breeze that raced along the sharp craggy wall of one of the many cliffs that extended into the tops of the sea of pine trees, lifting those soft, shining participles dangerously near hard rock and dark shadowy crevices that threatened to swallow them whole. Swirling and spinning faster and faster as they gained altitude, the snowy feathers burst to freedom and floated gently, unleashed from the tenacious grasp of that breeze over the top of that cliff, winking pure white in the light of the sun, shining like stars in the overtly dark by comparison landscape.

Even those bright points of light were dimmed by the span of huge white wings that captured the sunlight, emulating it and overpowering it as they stretched to capture the rising star's warmth. Small slender hands strained for the pastel blue heavens, fingers extended to their fullest extent, small lithe body bowed backward in an exhaustive stretch.

Letting his nearly white arms fall and his giant wings fold along his back, their crests towering above the soft, nearly white blonde hair that framed his heart-shaped face and their long flight feathers sweeping within bare inches of touching the ground, he slowly opened his eyes. A smile touched his lips as his gaze roved over the bright and beautiful expanse of the land he stood watch over with its colors glowing brightly in the light of the dawn sunlight.

Slowly freeing his feet of the need to support his weight, he descended to kneel in the soft emerald grass, wings furling to the sides to keep their expanses from becoming sodden and heavy with early morning dew drawn from the tender plant blades. Holding a pale hand aloft, he giggled quietly as a bird of multitudes of hues ranging from the brightest oranges to the most subtle blues blended with deep violets alighted onto the proffered perch and sang brightly in appreciation for the angelic being's hospitality. Reaching with steady fingers, the feathered boy slowly ran his delicately tipped digits along the merry bird's head, eliciting chirps of enjoyment and half-closed eyes that rang clearly of trust and contentment.

The moment came to its termination as quickly as the golden show of lights in the eastern skies faded to their ordinary post-dawn pastel blue which they would sport until the coming of the death of the day. As the tip of a tall shadow snaked over the winged boy, its dark bulk bringing a chill and a shiver to his naked flesh, the bird shrilled in alarm and took to the wing. Azure eyes watched the brightly colored animal burst into the air and vanish into the plethora of shades that made the forest setting, even as small ears peaking from under the mop of blond hair that attempted to hide them from the world around them listened to the bird's panicked song.

Turning, the tiny angel gulped even as a sheepish and doggedly mischievous smile met his lips. Blinking eyes that shined as innocently as he could possibly make them glisten at the person who'd marched into the grass behind him, he giggled nervously as he took the hand that had previously acted as the little bird's perch and swept it through his lanky, unruly platinum locks. "Whatever brings you here?"

Thick, strongly muscled arms crossed over a strapping chest, half of which was obscured by the fabric of a loosely fitting white silken toga which shielded the being's bronzed flesh from not only the elements but the thick black leather strap of the greatsword's scabbard that ran its gambit across his torso to hold that scabbard and the huge sword it encased firmly between the huge white wings that erupted from the person's thick back. Those wings, ruffled so the humongous feathers verily stood upright off of the strongly muscled limbs that made them, stood nearly spread to their full span, their shining white glow lost amongst the trees to either side of the huge masculine presence. Anger radiated from the bronzed face, glowing in pale and narrowed blue eyes that glared at the naked boy before him. Shaking his head, the long feathery waterfalls of golden blond hair that fell upon either side of his face in equal rivets brushing softly along his cheeks and jaw, he let his brow knit and his lips turn in a vicious snarl showing perfect white flat teeth. "Whatever brings me here, you dare ask?" the huge angel grunted, his voice deep, majestic and booming in its depths. The large wings verily snapped into place to rest upon the Solar's back, framing the long, perfectly trimmed fall of hair that caressed his body down to the base of his spine. "Perhaps it could be that Oghma himself has sent me to find out why you have yet to arrive at your destination."

"Oh, come on. The Outlands will be there tomorrow," the small angel quipped.

"But you were supposed to be there this morning! The God of Wisdom doesn't much like being kept in the dark about vital information because his lazy servant feels that watching the sunrise across Elysium is more important than doing his job."

"But Miliardo..."

"Don't 'But Miliardo' me, Quatre."

Smirking, Quatre shook his head. "All Oghma wants to know is where the gate key to Pandemonium has run away to. What's probably happened is some barmie straight from the place misplaced it or buried it underneath Everend's Inn again. Happens all the time, you know."

"It doesn't matter! You're supposed to be in the Outlands, determining its location! Not sitting on your ass making assumptions!"

A little sigh escaped the small nude boy as he shook his head. "Bah."

"Don't 'Bah' me either. He sent you because of the way you were created. You, and no other. Now I suggest you get off your rear and get yourself moving."

"You know, sometimes I hate the fact that I of all Celestials had to be created psionic."

"You say this every time we encounter one another, Quatre."

"Because every time we encounter one another, you're bitching at me for some reason and reminding me that the only reason I'm of any use to Oghma is because I can reach into these petitioners' and planars' and outworlders' minds and pluck information from them," Quatre huffed. "I never get a simple social call from you, you big meanie."

Miliardo shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder if touching those mortal minds has warped you, Quatre."

"Why?" he asked, a devious grin snaking across his lips.

Shaking his head, the larger Solar snorted. "You behave atrociously, especially for a Solar. You have no dignity."

"Dignity is for stingy bastards."

"Hmph. Get going to the Outlands before I physically pick you up and throw you there."

"Fine, fine! I'm going. If only to get you to remove yourself from my backside and not make the rest of eternity in Tir Na Og a writhing Hell, I'll go."

A simple nod from the large Solar showed his approval. Turning, he walked into the shade of the forest, shimmering and fading into the aura of a gate activated by his very presence.

Sighing quietly, Quatre shook his head. "Damn it. And all I wanted was a few hours to enjoy the coming of the sun over the planes. I happen to like welcoming the dawn, thank you Mister Stick-up-the-ass."

Rising to his feet, the angel laced his fingers together and stretched, spreading his wings to either side of his lanky body and tilting his head back with a yawn. "Well, time to get going," he bemused, stepping to the edge of the cliff. And with a light hop off its edge, he threw those massive white wings into use, pounding upon the light breezy air and bursting into flight.

He barely had time to see the shimmer of the atmosphere before him, the delicate strands of gold and violet that spoke of origination in the Prime Material Plane, before barreling into the disturbance in the sky.

Beating his wings desperately against the suddenly thick air, the Solar's eyes widened. 'Magic...? A Summoning spell!' Snarling, he closed his eyes, wings still working mightily against the call of the spell, and concentrated his mind upon the desire to remain where he was, enacting the power of :Space/Time Anchor: to prevent his undesired progression through the rend in the Plane's fabric from proceeding.

He failed.

A screech of alarm and hateful disbelief escaped his lips as the air about him changed, thickening and bursting with the gray mists of the Astral. The golden tendrils that gripped him like iron shackles pulled mercilessly upon his frame, the violet shades that accompanied those strands ensnaring his flailing limbs and speeding his progress along the silver strand that connected the spell to the Prime from which it originated. All breath stripped from his lungs, the Solar gasped desperately as he tried to flap his mighty wings, tried to fly against that irresistible pull, tried to psionically fight the magic that was wrenching him from the familiar Outer Planes to some unknown Prime. Psionic powers failing and fading, he grunted and resorted to his natural magical abilities.

The small Solar was more than shocked when he found the Prime's magical call to be more powerful than his innate powers, dragging him still through the Astral mists without mercy.

Suddenly the sky was blue again, laced with thin white clouds. A bright sun shined overhead, raining its light down upon tall shining silvery grasses that barely shone green past the gray that traced their individual blades. A few stray trees poked from the seemingly unending grass plain, their green leaves vying for the light of the shining star overhead.

And before him, staring in shock equivalent to what he was feeling himself, a Baatezu Pit Fiend blinked, backing away nervously as a sweat broke out upon its green skin. Holding up clawed hands, one still holding its viciously barbed scourge, the creature folded its leathery wings back and tucked its tail between its thick legs, ducking its long serpentine neck and pressing its lizard-like snout nearly to the ground. "Mercy, please, great Solar! I... I am just a servant, hardly worthy of your time! I am no great prize to be beaten! Have mercy, please!" it begged pitifully in the guttural tongue of Baator, the Plane best known as the Nine Hells.

Quatre simply lifted a hand. Holy fire erupted from it.

The Pit Fiend screamed as it was veritably roasted alive, writhing in the grasses that surrounded it as its natural enemy extinguished its life.

Turning, the Solar glared about the landscape, seeking the presence of the one who'd dared to stripe him from the Outers and bring him to the Prime Material, who's life force and attachment to the weave was preventing his immediate return to the planes he called home.

The archmagus who had performed the spell shied away from the burning azure glare, fear riding over every last nerve of his body. Holding forth shaking, thin hands, he gulped. "Truly, I never intended to snare a Celestial! I simply meant to call forth aid, and utilized the only spell I had remaining in my repertoire. I'd already used every other spell in my memory upon that Fiend, and failed to do it significant harm. He even evaded my attempts to cast /Banishment/ upon him. Please, I beg of you, do no harm to me for this accident. Surely, such a being of good wouldn't do harm to an old magus such as myself for simply seeking aid, right?" he whimpered in fright.

Narrowing his eyes further, the tiny angel sneered. "Maybe no other Solar would harm an old magus such as yourself. I, on the other hand, am not so forgiving."

Lifting his hand, Quatre snarled, longing to destroy the one who'd dared to drag him from the familiarity of the Outer Planes and slam him into the Prime with its weakened weave and lack of significant power flooding his mind and drawing his innate magical powers forth. White fire slowly began to snake across his palm as it slunk from his fingertips, pooling and burning.

The mage's lips speedily moved, his voice soft as he quickly murmured the last spell in his memory.

The Solar's eyes blinked. 'What in the Nine Hells...?' his brain screamed even as he felt his senses numbing and saw everything start fading to black. 'What did he do to me!'

Then he heard the final word of the spell the archmagus was casting - "Sleep."

The grass was cool beneath the Solar's nude skin for the few moments he was aware of his world.

After those few precious last moments of consciousness, he knew no more.

When once again he opened his eyes, Quatre stared at his surroundings in utter and complete shock. He was no longer in the field he'd seen when he'd been dragged from the Outer Planes. He was nowhere upon the Planes themselves. The area still reeked of the Prime, the weave still diminished and terribly weak. And his surroundings reminded him of nothing more than a dungeon.

He was curled upon a small cot in a cage that was hardly large enough for him to stand in, much less spread his wings to stretch them without banging them against solidly constructed, inch thick steel bars. A heavy padlock held the door of his enclosure shut. The floor was thick earthy brick, dusty with neglect. The world outside of his steel home was not much less desolate, constructed of the same brick wall and ceiling with iron shackles hanging from those walls intermittently. A large table dominated the room, shackles installed upon its surface, dark maroon streaks highlighting its hard surface. A desk stood beside that table, a ledger open upon it, a quill set upon its pages, a vial of ink corked to its side. A few instruments also rested upon that desk: a scalpel, a few needles, three beakers filled with different glowing potions, a mallet, a pair of intricately crafted mithrel arm bands, a pair of mithrel stakes, scrolls wrapped with ribbon or sealed with wax, a crystal ball upon its stand.

He was in a wizard's laboratory.

A frown met his lips. 'A laboratory? Why am I here?' And with a shake of his head, he snorted. 'Why I'm here, I don't care. I won't be here for long,' his mind growled as he called upon his sleep-refreshed mind to psionically draw himself back to the familiarity of the Planes.

He was shocked when his call to the Outers fizzled. A desperate fight to quell the panic that rose in him resulted in the attempt to enact his innate magical abilities.

They also failed.

Truly panicked, Quatre's eyes were huge as he stared around the room. "Where am I!" he screeched, setting his hands to the bars that encased him, rattling the door with all of his might.

"Please, do not panic so," a soft voice called as the oak door that resided within one of the brick walls cracked open.

Whirling within his cage, white wings banging soundly upon steel bars, the Solar glowered with hatred at his captor.

A smug smile laced the archmagus' lips. "Don't panic, my celestial friend. You will be cared for with the utmost respect and gentleness provided you cooperate."

"What was that?" Quatre snarled softly.

"Simply put, your cooperation will make your time here much easier on your person."

"And how do you think you're to keep me here, wizard?"

A shrug of his shoulders and a smirk met the Solar's eyes as the mage went to his desk and lifted the mithrel bands and the stakes in one hand, the mallet being hefted in the other. "Well, I've been pondering for quite some time how I would keep an innately magical creature under my command. That curiosity led me to create the anti-magic cage you now dwell within, as well as leading me to craft these beautiful little restraints you see before you. They should be enough to suppress your powers, as the cage is sufficient to hold you firmly in my laboratory. However, the fact that you are also psionic raised a bit of a concern. I've been spending the last four days I've had you under my sleep spell to adjust the enchantments upon my creations to restrain your Art as well."

It was then that Quatre felt fear for the first time in his existence.

And as the archmage entered that horrible cage, those mithrel armbands were thrust onto his arms and the spikes that accompanied them driven through bone and marrow to seal them into place, magical fire welding them permanently to the bands they held, the Solar discovered pain. It only intensified as the power imbedded in the bands sprang to life, twisting his physical body, grasping all that marked him as inhuman and reshaping him. Wings shrank and plowed into the flesh of his back. Glowing azure eyes faded to a human blue. Porcelain skin gained a faint peach tint.

The tiny nude boy shivered as he collapsed to his knees, shaking violently as the power of the bands imprisoned him and wracked him into a body with which he had no familiarity.

"Get used to it, my boy," the mage softly said. "Such is the only way to deal with you, I am afraid."

"Deal with me...?" Quatre groaned, lifting his pain-laced gaze to focus upon his captor.

"Yes. You see, if I were to release you, you'd very likely kill me as you were set to do in the plains. If I were to hold you as a captive celestial, I'd have the attention of every magus in this city upon me. So you shall be a human boy. My son, so to speak. Thus, I can keep you as I please, letting only those who have a longing to know about your capabilities and your limits have knowledge of what you are. I can let only those who show interest and provide funding be aware of your true identity for those experiments I have planned for your near future."

The blonde boy simply lay upon his cot, closing his eyes, whimpering quietly as he passed back into unconsciousness.

His eyes opened hours later to yet another new sight.

He was in a more decidedly welcoming room. It was a barren chamber sparsely decorated with books, assorted weapons, and a small collection of musical instruments.

Letting his eyes drift about the room, he stared at the simple bed, the desk with its chair and a pile of papers atop of it, the plain wardrobe, the piano littered with papers, the violin hanging upon hooks on the west wall by the door beside a dusty lute. Apparently he'd been granted usage of the mage's music chamber.

His gaze lowering to stare at the floor, he meandered slowly to the large window that made up his eastern wall. Sliding to his knees, he laid his hands upon the glass, trying vainly to ignore the throbbing pain that dominated his arms. Pressing his forehead against the cool pane, he sighed, lifting his gaze to stare at the pink hues that graced the sky, dancing over the sprawling Prime city that had become his new home and his prison, lighting the buildings that strained to touch the clouds above as the rays of the Outer Suns touched the pine needles of Elysium, the plains of the Beastlands, the battle-driven inhabitants of Ysgard, the gray swamps of the Abyss' thirty ninth layer. His dark blue eyes watched remorsefully as a bright yellow sun slowly and regally lifted itself into the sky, inviting the waking of the avian inhabitants of the human dwelling and encouraging them to burst free from their night roosts in the stone and wood city's trees and beams. And as a swarm of white wings beat outside of his window, doves cooing quietly and miserably to him as they sat upon the gargoyles and trim outside of his large prison's glass wall, he felt the sting of wet tears leak from his eyes. Those birds outside mimicked his sadness, their innocent hearts bleeding for that creature of the heavens trapped without the ability to touch the sky as they could, as he ought to be able to for eternity, before the screech of a griffon bearing its City Guard rider flying overhead startled them and encouraged them to burst into the sky.

Quatre's sad gaze watched the glistening flock fade into the sky, fleeing towards that rising sun upon wings free to taste the winds that graced the sprawled city, free to feel the warmth of the rising Prime Material Plane's shining sun.

He was faintly aware of the door opening behind him.

"What are you doing?" the mage's thick voice asked.

"What I have always done since the dawn of time. What I always will do."

"Which is?"

Quatre sighed, closing his eyes. "Welcome the dawn."

_-owari-_

_next addendum: 'Crafting of a Child'  
the tale of Duo's childhood and his first encounter with Wufei_


	2. Crafting of a Child

Disclaimer: I in no way own Gundam W or AD&D. Don't sue; I'm simply an E5 in the USN, therefore I have no money. Ha.

_-BEGIN FIC-_

The small boy laughed merrily as he ran down the dusty road, his long uncontrolled hair flapping like a flag behind him and his bare feet leaving visible prints in his wake. Arms flung to his sides and flapping wildly, he roared at the top of his lungs. "ROAUR! I'm a dragon!" the boy squealed as he ran in front of yet another house, his light beige tunic fluttering around him and his brown breeches, rolled above his knees, getting splattered with brown flecks of mud as he jumped mightily into a puddle in the middle of that dusty road that had been left by the drainage from the nearby farm's fields to collect and stagnate under the warm summer sun's rays.

Pausing his 'flight' for but a moment to more thoroughly smite the puddle he'd found, he jumped up and down a few more times for good measure before giggling and running off again, arms flapping once more. "I've destroyed the town's water supply! Mwa ha ha ha! The Black Dragon has thwarted yet another human settlement! Take that, measly mortals!"

Running on, mud flying from his feet with every step, he raced the wind to the town center. Dodging around those who milled in the bazaar looking for whatever it was they were seeking to buy that day, the child giggled and danced first past the weapons hut, next by the stand where Meredith the Sage sold his scrolls and mystical concoctions, then scraped by the merchant's stand which every day carried a fine array of exotic fruits and vegetables. The boy finally ducked into the darker, less crowded depths of the small city after ensuring that he'd made his way around every temporarily established stand that resided in the dusty circle that was the unofficial center of the town that was his home. He stole past the tavern, slipped through the stables, squeezed past the doorway to the town's only Inn, and slid into a dark alley next to the building that served both as brothel and guild-house for the den of thieves that operated in the area.

The child lifted a bright ruby apple to his lips that he'd acquired during his short journey, taking a bite out of it before setting his small knuckles to the gnarled door that rose before him, barely visible upon the wooden wall that was the southern side of the 'Happy Traveler's Paradise.' Juices dribbling down his unmarred chin, he stared with bright violet eyes at the nearly perfectly hidden door, waiting for it to open.

"Password?" a low, grating voice hissed from the interior of the building the small boy sought to enter.

"The rain falls mainly on the plains in... someplace I ain't never been before so I don't 'member!" the boy cheerfully burst.

"Gaw. Kid, get in here!" the voice growled even as the door swung open and a darkly tanned hand jutted forth from the shadows within that dark building, seeking to grab the child's thin arm and drag him inside.

Dancing easily out of reach, the boy giggled. "You can not capture the mighty Dragon with such silly tactics! Roar!"

"Kid!"

"Number one can't catch me! Means he's not number one no more, 'cause he can't bring down the mighty Black Terror! Solo's gone down the tubes," the boy challenged even as he laughed and turned, running happily down the street, his giggles floating on the breeze towards the owner of the voice who'd attempted to snatch him.

Stepping into the dark and dismal alley, the young man pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, staring in the direction the child had run off to. "Damn that kid," he snorted as he shook his head in dismay even as a smirk stole across his lips.

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The guild had operated in the region since anyone who currently lived in the small city of Jalmantar could remember. Laying at the connection of the major trade paths that lead from the Dragon Sea to the Southern Plains and those roads that permeated the elven woods to the east and stretched west to meet with that north-south road, it was an area of high trade and commerce, always flooded with exotic merchandise, new spells and plentiful artifacts ranging from unknown foodstuffs to fine armor and exquisite weapons. It was a relatively quiet little town, barely found on even the most local of maps, with a steady population of nary a score of regular businessmen who ran the commodities the city had to offer to those who traversed through it, a dozen score of farmers who plowed and worked the lands around those buildings that marked it as a civilized region to provide it with foodstuffs when merchants were settled for the winter and not traveling the roads, the magistrate and his court, a small compliment of city guards and the families of all those who employed themselves in the city proper for their livelihoods.

Indeed, such a quiet town was hardly noteworthy of the attention of largest of guilds, such as the Black Shadow Guild that functioned from the Sword Coast and had recently been ejected from the grand City of Splendors, Waterdeep. Even those guilds such as the Red Talon from Thay's depths and the Guild of the Grand Eye which still operated under heavy scrutiny and careful moderation of its activities in Waterdeep and barely avoiding the notice of the Waterhavian Guard, took no interest in the crossroads and the potential riches that traveled there. Such made it perfect for the rising of the upstart guild, which functioned under whatever name the leader who currently had that gang of ruffians and way-wary thieves who sought shelter from the world or a start into grander, more lucrative schemes under his control chose. Its name at that time was the Dragon's Shadow, under the watchful eye of the young thief known only as 'Solo.'

Solo was an enigma as far as most of the city's inhabitants, whether permanent or temporary, were concerned. Indeed, none would think to label the young man who normally walked the streets with a pleasant smile upon his angular, darkly tanned face, eyes bright and shining like hazel gems from under the shadow cast over them by wildly flopping sun-bleached bangs that shone nearly yellow but who's roots were as brown as the roads he walked upon as one of the most dangerous and prolific thieves in the area. Solo, known through most of the town for his good-natured attitude and his willingness to help, operated during the day as any would expect a polite young man to do - he had a steady job as a janitor at the 'Happy Traveler's Paradise,' cleaning the rooms after clients had finished with their delightful romps with the house's employees and straightening beds and linens before the room was to be occupied again. He could often be seen helping old ladies with their grocery sacks bearing their burdens to their remote farmhouses, or taking the handle of a heavily laden cart from a farmer to help shoulder the weight. Solo neither exuded wealth nor poverty - rather, the boy hovered in appearance right between the two extremes, comfortably clothed in low quality cloths that had no giant tears or holes with no shoes to protect his feet from the road, hair neatly straightened and cleanly cut to hang in a thick mass to barely brush his shoulders as he strolled through the town that was his domain.

During the nights, though, the boy was another creature entirely, secretly ravishing those he aided during the day, plundering their wealth to supplement his own and provide for those who sought his aid by becoming members of his guild. For his guild he gathered money for food, clothing, shelter accommodations for those who could not handle life in the basement of the brothel he'd secured his own lodging in, and the equipment with which no thief could rightly live: grappling hooks, wire, lock-picks, caltrops, clawed gloves and climbing spikes, harnesses, crowbars, glasscutters and the like.

It was this operator of darkness that stumbled across the child, alone and hungry, curled under the counter of Meredith's stand. It was only when he was reaching across the counter to the empty stand to set his glasscutters to work upon the Sage's display case that held scrolls of supposedly extreme magical powers when he was allowed to become aware of the boy's presence. When his toe hit the bundle that had been abandoned under the thick folds of fabric that made the attractive falling front of the Magician's store, it cried.

Solo had considered leaving the child in its place, taking his scrolls and running for the relative shelter of the few buildings that made up the town's true downtown region. But the moment he'd lifted the fabric curtain that hid the crying babe from view, he knew that his fate had been sealed.

As violet eyes blinked innocently at him and the crying that erupted from its tiny lungs stopped, Solo knew there was no way he'd be able to leave the tiny boy to lie in the dust beneath the old Sage's stand.

Everyone had thought him mad when he came back that night not with scrolls and a bag of coins, but with a squirming bundle that giggled and cooed as it yanked the nostril hairs out of the thief called Bulldog's nose.

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It was nearly three years after that fateful night when the young boy flapped his mighty draconic self to the edge of the town that encompassed his entire world and saw the huge cloud of dust upon the horizon rapidly approaching. "What the...?" he questioned the errant breeze that blew past him even as he watched it roil and seethe, dirt billowing into the air like plumes of smoke from a blacksmith's forges.

The boy barely had time to dive into the farmer's field to his left, hiding himself completely in the tall wheat that grew there, as the hordes of orcs races past with spears and swords held aloft, war cries blaring forth from drool-dripping, fanged mouths and sweat dripping from furrowed sickly green-gray wrinkled skin.

He watched as the miserable company of nearly forty creatures thundered towards the center of the town, his home, his very life. He gulped down his terror and leapt to his feet, his innocence in regards to their purpose and their destructive capacities driving him to chase the thick-skinned and lightly armored beasts to their destination.

His run was brought to a halt as he watched the creatures he chased break into the town's trading center with wild laughter and roars like a wave crashing into a rocky shoreline, scattering instantly among the confused and terrified merchants and shoppers who screamed and attempted to run from the onslaught. Bright violet eyes stared, wide with shock and horror, as sword and spear swung and stabbed, thick red liquid splashing and spraying with every fall of those dreaded weapons. The boy barely blinked as a chunk of intestine flew past his head, showering him with blood, watching as the orcs reigned havoc and brought death to those who sought simply to live their lives in the same peace they'd known day by day in the city that was his home.

Suddenly, arms were around him, hefting him off the ground. Struggling for but a moment, he gripped those arms and stared up into a fall of familiar bangs. "Solo! What're they doing?" he asked, returning his stare to the orcs even as those few who accompanied the merchants who traded in that bazaar who were familiar with the way of the sword drew their weapons and entered the massacre, drawn forth from their games of drinking and whoring by the cries of the innocents being slaughtered.

"Don't ask questions, kid. Get outta here!" Solo growled as he put the child down and shoved him roughly towards the buildings of the town's downtown region. "Get home, and stay hidden!"

"But Solo," the boy protested, sinking his fingers into the taller boy's pants, "they'll get me if I run!" Worried eyes shimmered with tears as they watched the ongoing fight.

"I'll watch over you. Just run!"

With a nod, the boy turned and ran.

'Solo'll watch over me. He promised.'

'He promised.'

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

The boy remained in the basement of that brothel exactly as directed, even as the continued screams rang through the day. He stayed put as blood dripped through the floorboards that ran above his head, marring his chestnut hair and his sun-touched round cheeks. He stayed as the thuds of bodies hitting the wooden floor rang in his ears. He stayed as the incredible heat of raging fire stifled the atmosphere of his basement home. He stayed as burning timbers fell around the table he hid under, as ashes rained down from the sky like snow.

It was only after the cries and screams were long over that the child dragged himself free of his hiding place, crawling over the ashen remains of strong beams and singed bodies, working his way slowly to the charred bricks that were the stairway to the door that reached the alley he knew as his home's front yard.

Reaching the crumpled remains of the wall that marked his home's boundary and crawling easily over it, he allowed wide violet eyes to sweep their gaze over his town.

Tears came unbidden to his eyes as he stared at the bodies of those he'd met on a daily basis, of those he'd lived with, of those he'd made smile on their trek through the town to their trading destinations.

He sobbed as he lay beside the body of his protector, curling himself along the bloodied corpse's side, dragging one nearly severed arm over his thin body.

It had taken nearly a fortnight for the small band of missionaries to finally reach Three Swords, where their temple dedicated to the power Helm was established.

The boy stared at the rising white temple with huge violet eyes, drinking the spectacle as if it were nourishing water. "What's that building for?" he brightly chirped as he tugged on the trailing white robe of one of the priests he'd been traveling with since the fall of his town and their entrance into the macabre plain of bodies.

"It's a temple dedicated to the worship of Helm."

"Who's that?"

The priest chuckled softly, "He's the God of Guardians."

"What's he do?"

"He gives powers to those who would protect others," the cleric answered with a good-natured smile upon his lips.

"Yeah?"

"Yes, he does child."

The small child frowned, his brow furrowing. "No he doesn't."

The priest arched a brow, a small frown touching his lips as well. "Why do you make such a claim, my boy?"

"Coz he didn't give no powers to Solo. He ended up smooshed."

"But he protected you, didn't he?" the priest asked, arching a brow.

"Yeah, I guess," the young boy replied.

"Then he gave Solo the power to protect you, even though it ended with the sacrifice of his life."

"You think so?"

"I'm certain of it," the cleric replied with a nod.

The boy stared at the temple before nodding, apparently having come to his own conclusions. "Does Mr. Helm give powers to dead people too?"

The priest wrinkled his brow. "That's an interesting question you ask."

"Well, does he?"

"I suppose he does-"

"'Kay!" the child brightly interrupted, nodding once before spreading his arms and making flapping, whooshing sounds between his lips, scampering to the head of the string of priests that were returning to the temple that was their home.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

The boy fidgeted as he stood before the heavily robed man who headed the small order of the clergy of Helm in Three Swords, wriggling in his temple-issued white robes and squirming his toes in his sandals. So preoccupied with his new clothing situation was he that he fully ignored the conversation of the cleric at his side, a tall stately woman who had headed the band that had discovered him in the ravaged remains of his home, and the man who headed what the missionaries who'd rescued him from the field of corpses he was lying in had determined would be his home until they could locate him a more suitable establishment.

"He was the only survivor?" the head priest softly asked, his age-dimmed brown eyes setting their gaze upon the boy's small form.

"Yes, m'Lord Balthazar. We searched for others, but he was the only one we were able to find and rescue from that graveyard of a town. We gave proper burial and rites to the rest."

"You have done all you can, Lady Shalindrea. Do not let it rest so heavily upon your heart. The fact that one life was saved means that your journey was not in vain."

"I know such, m'Lord."

"So, child," the old man questioned as a good-humored smile snaked across his wrinkled, cracked lips and turned the deep lines around his eyes and cheeks up, "whatever is your name?"

The boy was sitting on the floor, trying desperately to untie the knot that held his right sandal on his foot.

"Boy?"

"Hm?" he asked as his fingers got laced in the very strings he was trying to untangle.

A laugh shook the man's jowls. "What is your name?"

"Name..." The boy frowned, eyes downcast, staring at the laces that wrapped around his ankles.

"Do you not have one?" the old man quietly asked.

After a few long moments of pondering, the boy flashed a bright grin at him. "Duo."

Quirking a brow, the old cleric scratched his chin, even as the cleric at his side frowned and asked, "Duo? What sort of name is that for a boy?"

Grinning merrily at the lady by his side, the child winked. "Means 'two,' don't it?"

"Well, yes-"

"Solo was one. He was the one man in charge of it all, you know, so he was Solo."

The two adults simply nodded, encouraging the child to continue with his explanation.

"Well, I'm two."

"You're number two?" the lady asked, her fingers tapping her chin, her fingernail at her bottom lip.

"Nope! I'm two. Coz Solo said he'd watch over me, and that guy in white you guys all called Jerrod the whole time we were coming over to this place said Helm gives protectors power even after they're smooshed. So if he's still got the power to do it, Solo's protecting me. Coz he said he'd watch over me, an' when Solo says somethin' like that, it means for always."

"Oh really?" the old man asked, a smile taking his lips.

"Yep! Coz Solo keeps his promises, no matter what happens. And if he's with me, then I'm two. Me an' Solo, forever an' ever."

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

The mighty dragon flapped his wings as he soared through the town of Three Swords.

"ROAR!" he bellowed, white robes flapping wildly around his lithe body as his small bare feet thudded rapidly down the dirt path stirring the loose dust that covered it. Weaving back and forth to nimbly avoid the few stones that erupted from the road and the weeds that strove for the light of the sun in the cracks of that passage that were infrequently traversed, the beast snarled and leapt, chestnut braid sailing into the air before smacking firmly down onto his small back.

He barely was able to bring himself to a halt before running into the white picket fence that marked the edge of a farmstead's domain. Blinking a few times, he grinned a toothy smile that was gapped in the front and wrapped his chubby little hands around fence posts.

"Hellooooooo!" he called brightly, waiting for any movement to appear from the house that rested a good thousand feet away from the fence he stood at. "Is anyone living here yet? Or is ya still empty, you poor ol' house?"

After many moments had passed, the boy squeezed himself between the fence's widespread posts to enter the abandoned farmstead. A wild giggle at his lips, he made his way to his target - the water barrel.

Four hours later, the brown-robed child snuck back into the temple he called home, deftly bounding from the shadowy recesses behind pillars to the protected areas under the parishioner's pews. Slipping as silently as he could on his bare feet past the meeting chamber of the clergy where he knew the temple's clerics and priests were praying and discussing their objectives for that season, he tightened his grip on his sandals' laces as he kept his gaze on the hallway that would lead to salvation, otherwise known as the chambers he and the young acolytes shared and called 'home.' "Tck, Gck, Tck, Gck," he whispered, each sound accompanying each footstep.

"DUO!" a voice bellowed from the doorway he'd just managed to slip past.

"GCK!" the tiny boy exclaimed as he attempted to burst into a wild run for the safety of his bedding chamber. His desperate vie for freedom was brought to a surprisingly swift end by the shockingly strong grip of Lady Shalindrea's hand on the back of his muddied robes. Feet flailing uselessly in the air for a few moments, the four-year-old boy pondered his situation for a moment before deciding that dedicating more energy to attempting to run was rather futile. Rather, he dedicated that energy to a manic, cute smile towards the glowering face of the priestess who'd captured him. "Hiya, Lady Shal!" he giggled as sweetly as he could, his bright violet eyes sparkling vividly.

"Duo, whatever have you... where... what...!"

The boy giggled and blinked. "Whaaaa?"

"What have you been getting yourself into, young man?" the priestess growled at the boy in her grip, taking in the vivid portrayal of what registered in her eyes as certain trouble - the mud covered robes, the sandals laying untied and as clean as the boy could see fit to keep them on the temple floor, hair in matted tangles, mud splattered all over round merry cheeks.

"Nothin'!" the boy chirped.

"This doesn't look like 'nothing,' Duo," Lady Shalindrea snorted.

The boy blinked a few times. "I went ta play an' found a water barrel."

"You went swimming in someone's water!" the Lady gasped, completely aghast.

"No! Th'ouse's empty. Ain't nobody living there since I got here!"

"You were playing at that abandoned farmstead at the edge of town!"

Duo winced as the Lady looked only more horrified at his proclamation. "But ain't nobody there, so ain't no trouble fer me t'get in, right?"

"Duo, do you WANT to be the victim of one of the hordes that roves the edges of this town? Do you WANT to be taken away by goblins or orcs? That's where they rove when they circle this city, Duo! You know that, and yet you still go out there! Why!"

He sniffed a couple of times. "I ain't gotta worry. Solo's lookin' after me."

The priestess sighed, putting the boy down and tugging his muddied robe straight. "Dear, Solo's dead."

"HE'S LOOKIN' AFTER ME! He promised. An' Solo never breaks his promises, even if he is dead! You guys said his spirit can still guard people. That's what he's doing!"

"But Duo-"

"But NOTHIN'!" the boy screamed as he ran from the temple, tears already welling at the corners of his eyes as his bare feet pounded over centuries old tile as quickly as they could.

Lady Shalindrea bowed her head as the slam of the temple's thick wooden door being closed with all of the small child's might reverberated down the ancient stone corridor she stood in.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

The carriage rolled down the cobblestone road, its wooden wheels bouncing roughly over the uneven ground. Swaying slightly from the left to the right as the uneven road tilted underneath its girth, the carriage's driver slowed the two black steeds that pulled the sedan to more cautiously ease it towards its destination.

Bright violet eyes watched the carriage make its way through the small town centre. A short time later, tiny feet stirred the dust of the road as the boy ducked out of the alley he called home, sneaking away from the nest of blankets he'd collected from abandoned homesteads and trash piles and leaving behind the pack he'd stuffed with as many pilfered foodstuffs as he could get his tiny hands onto. His hands holding the hem of what remained of his once white robes above his knees to free his legs for more rapid movement, he tried his best to keep the rolling carriage in sight, not caring where it was going or what its purpose was, his curiosity over who was inside such a vehicle and where they came from overriding any fear that might have once filled his mind.

The boy followed the carriage to the very outskirts of town, watching as it came to a stop in front of the abandoned farmhouse he had so loved to make his play area but a year ago, before he'd run from the temple that had taken him in after the destruction of his hometown of Jalmantar. Ducking into the bushes that had grown with the flow of time along that white picket fence, he peered out from between the thick green leaves that hid him from view as the carriage's door opened.

He watched as a stately lady with long braids of soft brown hair spilling over each shoulder emerged from the carriage's interior, her dress of simple commoner's cloth tastefully embroidered with colorful threads in flowery patterns along its hem. She carried at the crook of her left arm a basket with breads and fruits barely covered by a checkered cloth. Her right arm held her balance, her delicate fingertips that marked her as a keeper of houses rather than a tender of fields curled about the bars attached to the carriage's side for easing entering and exiting the vehicle. Soon after her feet, cased in simple but delicate looking sandals whose laces raced the lengths of her legs to vanish into the unknown spaces beneath her dress, had touched the ground a man who Duo assumed was her husband stepped free of the carriage at her heels. He was more of what the boy had expected to arrive at a farmhouse, being a tall and heavily muscled gentleman with broad shoulders and sun-bleached hair that brushed heat-browned skin and dangled before dark blue eyes.

"Aleck, darling, are you sure about this?" Duo overheard the woman quietly asking the man at her side.

"Of course, Sally," the man replied just within the child's range of hearing, "it'll be great. You and me, starting over again, recovering from what happened."

"That's not what I mean, Aleck," the woman softly sighed, her voice so soft that the sharp-eared child had to slip forward through the bushes to catch her words. "I know we'll be fine. We're just returning to the life we knew before. But what about the boy? He's not used to farm life. He's a child of the Eastern cities, and-"

"The boy will be fine. He'll adjust. He's already come to trust us, even though we're so extraordinarily different than his parents. He'll come to accept this life easily enough."

The woman ducked her head, biting lightly on her lip. "Are you certain?"

"Of course," the tall farmhand reassured her, looping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a tender embrace. "He's a resilient kid. He'll be fine. So instead of standing out here hemming and hawing about whether or not he'll adjust, why don't we just get into that house and get it warmed up?"

"You're right," the woman agreed, a small nod of her head accompanying her words.

It was then that she turned back to the carriage, even as the man who'd stepped out of the carriage started to unbind the bags that rested atop of the sedan they'd ridden in and setting them upon the dusty ground. Sticking her head into the vehicle, Duo scooting himself deeper into the bramble that grew along side the picket fence he was hidden in to hear more clearly, she murmured, "Sweetheart, we're home. Come on out, darling."

Duo stared as a boy unlike any he'd ever seen in his short life made his way to the ground from the carriage's interior. 'Huh! From the Eastern Lands, huh?' Duo thought silently, his violet eyes glistening as he watched the child who he judged to be approximately his equal in age turn a critical stare to the house that was to be removed from Duo's collection of abandoned playing fields and was to become his home.

Eyes as black as the darkest shadows glistened in the sunlight, narrowing as they took in the sight displayed before him. Sweeping their slanted gaze over untended field, bush and tree, he huffed through a rounded little nose and turned his oval face to the woman who stood at his side. "This is home, Mother?" his voice grunted, its town hovering between disappointment and forced approval.

"Yes it is, Wufei. We will be safe here from those who destroyed our homes."

The boy blinked before turning his darkly tanned face back to the house, nodding once. "Very well," he stated, his stance proud even as he marched his way towards the house, grabbing a small bag on his trek to accompany him.

Duo's eyes followed the black-haired boy until he vanished into the shadows.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

It was nearly three weeks since Duo had watched the small family move into the farmstead that used to be his favorite play place in those one-upon-a-time moments when he was still a ward of the temple, and he'd yet to see the boy again. He spent many afternoons watching the farmhand Aleck turn the soil of those rejected fields, pulling weeds from the ground and planting seeds he'd purchased at the bazaar with the little money he had in their place. He'd watched the woman Sally hanging laundry on the limbs of the tree that rose from the ground just outside of the house to dry and stared as she placed steaming pies upon her windowsill to cool.

Those pies were the most delicious things Duo had tasted in quite some time. And no matter how many times her fresh pastries had vanished from her window, she always put more up day after day.

Yes, Duo was better fed those days than he'd been in nearly a year.

As he snuck free of the bushes in the early evening dusk, stealing silently over the ground and sliding through the shadows cast by the trees and the setting sun over the freshly turned fields, he kept his gaze on the target of his attentions. It was his favorite time of day; it was the time of evening when Sally put her pies in the window to cool.

Scampering to the small house's wall, he pressed himself against the wooden structure and exhaled. One hand slowly began its evening ritual - sneaking to the windowsill to carefully lift one of those delicious smelling treats away from its place, then rapidly tossing it into his other hand which was wrapped in a strip torn from what once was the sleeve of his dusty robe to protect it from the heat of the freshly cooked pie.

"So YOU'RE the one who's been stealing our deserts."

Duo froze, his violet eyes huge as his heart nearly came to a stop. Turning his eyes, he blinked and stared.

The black-haired boy had his steely gaze focused on Duo, his eyes narrowed as he stood in naught but his underpants in the cooling night air with a stick resting easily in his right hand, its tip hovering but an inch from the long-haired would-be thief's throat. "Come with me. You will stand for punishment for the crime of stealing."

"What?" Duo burst, staring at the child beside him. "You've gotta be kiddin', right?"

"I am not joking. You will accompany me. My Mother will be your judge, jury and punisher."

"Punish, nothin'! I ain't goin' nowhere!"

"Oh yes you are!"

"Oh no I ain't!"

"Yes you are!"

"No I ain't!"

"Yes, you ARE!"

"NO, I AIN'T!"

Sally ran from the house as the sounds of an ensuing fight roared through her kitchen from outside.

---)))000(((---)))000(((---)))000(((---

Aleck just watched the two boys as they carefully stacked blocks, giggling as they built a city that shone grandly in their imaginations. "So, you say your name is Duo?" he questioned.

The violet-eyed boy turned, grinned at the farmhand and nodded. "Yep!"

"And where is it you live, Duo? I'm certain that your parents are worried about you being missing with the coming of night."

The boy shrugged nonchalantly. "I ain't got none."

Sally walked in from the kitchen, bearing two steaming plates of hot potatoes and freshly fried eggs. Putting one in front of each little construction man, she smiled and lightly ruffled Wufei's shoulder-length black tresses, earning a glower from him and a bark of "Don't do that, onna!" before turning a concerned eye to Duo. "You don't have any parents?" she softly asked, following her question with yet another; "Then where do you live?"

"I live behind the Wailing Wraith," the boy honestly chirped before digging his hands into the food on his plate and shoving his fistful of potatoes and eggs into his mouth.

Wufei blinked a few times as he picked up a pair of sticks and set them between his fingers, operating them scissor-like to delicately lift a piece of potato from his plate and put it between his lips. After chewing and swallowing, he asked, "Where's that?"

"Oh, it's downtown. Big tavern. Can't miss it coz it's really the only one, you know," Duo said with a grin as he smashed more food into his mouth and noisily chewed. "How ya use those things?"

"Chopsticks? Easy. You just hold them like this, move them like this, and pick stuff up. Keeps your hands clean."

"Why would ya wanna do that?"

"What if you'd been playing in mud earlier?"

Duo blinked. "So? Mud's good."

Sally cleared her throat, interrupting the two boys. "Duo, you said you live behind the Wailing Wraith?"

Turning a bright grin to her, he nodded. "Yep!"

"In the alley back there?"

"Yep. It's nice an' warm."

Aleck cleared his throat. "Don't you have any guardians? Perhaps living at the temple-"

"NO!" the boy screamed, throwing a handful of potatoes at the farmhand. Snorting, tears coming unbidden to his dark eyes, the boy wiped his nose before shaking his head, his unkempt braid that looked as if it hadn't been taken down and redone in nearly a year flopping loosely across his back. "I ain't never goin' back there. They said Solo ain't keepin' his promise, coz he's dead. They said Solo ain't with me no more. They lied, so I ain't gonna be there ta listen ta them!"

Sally and Aleck both blinked, staring in shock at the boy as he wiped his eyes, head bowed to let the long ragged bangs that sprang from his scalp hide his shame from those who surrounded them.

"They're wrong," a soft voice said at his side.

Turning, Duo set his gaze on Wufei and grinned even as he wiped his nose on his arm and his eyes with his food covered hands. "You think so too?"

"Of course," Wufei said, a sagely nod accompanying his proclamation. "I know they're wrong because I know that my Bo and Fu are still looking after me. Because I know that Sally and Aleck's real son is still with them. Even if they aren't here so we can see and touch them, they're still around in our hearts and in spirit."

His grin turning a bit more wild and cheery, the chestnut-haired boy nodded vigorously. "That's right, ain't it? So, what happened to your... uh... what'd'ya call 'em?"

"Rough translation, Mom and Dad. They were killed when the Morali dynasty took our village. Sally and Aleck were traveling back from trading to their homelands and found me. They intended to take me in as a second child, but when they arrived home they found that the wizards to their west had ravaged their town and killed their family."

"So you're out 'ere?" Duo asked, eyes huge.

"Yes. And you?"

With a shrug, the boy stuffed more food into his mouth. Chewing a couple times, he swallowed before chirping, "Solo found me an' raised me. But he got smooshed by orcs back home. A buncha priests brought me here, but I left 'em after they said Solo ain't lookin' after me no more. Coz they lied, coz Solo said he'd watch over me an' when he says somethin' like that it means forever an' ever."

Wufei simply nodded in agreement before scowling at the condition of Duo's grubby hands. Snatching the other boy's wrist in one hand, he grabbed a fresh set of chopsticks and pushed them into his new friend's hand. "I'll teach you to use these."

As the lessons proceeded, Sally turned to Aleck, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Aleck, we can't turn him back to the streets."

"You want to keep him here?" the farmhand asked, his gaze keeping its focus on her face.

"Yes. The child has nowhere else to go, and..."

Aleck simply nodded. "I don't have any problem with it." Turning his attention to the two boys as one fumbled with chopsticks and the other berated him for being a 'ridiculous baka,' the farmhand cleared his throat. "Duo, would you like to remain here?"

The boy turned sparkling violet eyes to him. "Stay here? Hm." Staring at the chopsticks in his hand, he blinked, then glanced up at Wufei. "They fer real?"

"I do believe so," the other boy whispered, nodding. "If you've got nowhere else to really go, why not? It'll be fun," he added, the slightest hint of a mischievous grin turning his lips and glimmering in his black eyes.

Duo mimicked that grin before turning back to the adults and nodding. "'Kay!"

And as Wufei took Duo by the wrist and dragged him off to show him where he could sleep for the night and where all the toys were stashed, Sally flashed a smile to her partner. "Thank you."

A chuckle escaped Aleck as he shook his head. "We were prepared from the time we left the East to expand our family anyway, weren't we? So why not simply save another from a lonely life on the streets?"

Nodding, Sally gathered the plates of cooling food that had been abandoned in the children's excitement to secure their sleeping arrangements. "Indeed," she replied. "It's always a great feeling to save a soul from the evils of the world. To save one from the sadness of life in these ravaged Realms. To have a positive influence in the crafting of a child."

_-owari-_

_next addendum: 'The Performer'  
the tale of Trowa's childhood before and after the departure of his best friend and next-door neighbor, Heero_


End file.
